Green Inventions Central

29.1.11

I Need a Real Trash Can (on Simplifying My Life)

Maybe it is the snow. (And the snow, and the snow, and the snow.)

But I am feeling overwhelmed these days. So when Cheryl Smith started her mission to simplify, I was right there with her.

For the past two weeks I've been thinking about this issue of simplification, and I decided it comes down to simple things, like this: I need a real trash can. That little gray stripy thing on my Mac screen? Just not cutting it. I need a real canister I can throw real, unneeded, cluttery getting-me-down stuff into.

I need to throw away unsorted papers, empty pens, hair bands that have lost their elasticity.

You know what I mean, right? There is something greatly satisfying about transferring concrete objects from the counter to the can. Figuring out how to keep these things off the counter in the first place (and out of the sanitation system) is another matter.

But for now, I'm taking just 10 minutes a day to see the canister with the foot pedal as my friend. Maybe I will work up to the Indy 500 of Trash-Can Competitions. Though if you're going to challenge me to it, please make the entry form simple. :)

24.1.11

Rustling Up Relationship

Mealtimes are some of the loneliest moments these days— a reminder that our four-chair table is often only filled to three-quarter capacity. My husband's hours and rigorous travel schedule mean I often choose to sit in "Daddy's chair." Somehow it fills the emptiness just a little bit, to move from my regular place over to his.

I do this for the children's sake as much as for mine. And when it it possible, I invite someone else to fill my own place. Yesterday it was Dave Stradling, after he spoke at our church. The day before it was a young lady my girls have been making friends with.

The young lady made me smile when she dipped into the tomato soup I rustled up to provide lunch.

"Did you make this yourself?" she smiled softly.

"I did! How could you tell?"

"It's really good," she said, and went on to tell how her mom makes potato soup with shredded carrots and potatoes. I learned a new way to make potato soup in that moment. In our ensuing conversation, I learned something about the Mandarin language... that it has no formal words for "yes" and "no." (It works more like a dance, using mirror sentences to affirm or negate.) I also learned sweet little details of our guest's life.

In the end, I am trying to see the empty chair as an invitation— a chance to rustle up the hope of deeper and wider relationship that otherwise may not have been.

For the salsa (which you will grab 1/4 cup of later and add to two drained cans of black beans, along with 1/2 tsp cumin, olive oil, red wine vinegar and salt and pepper for the black bean salad), you can use:

And if you are up for an adventure, you could let your kids make the meal. Why not let them use knives? :)

In reading The Spirit of Food this weekend, I was struck by the final words of Karen Baldwin's essay. She says, "Stephen has a stirring memory (pun intended) of me cooking one day, entirely absorbed in my medium. All of my senses were engaged—the sight of food browning, the sound as its moisture content changed, the smelling, tasting, and touching of the food. This day he heard me muse quietly, unconsciously perhaps, yet oh so rightly, 'When I cook, it is worship.'"